


The Lake.

by my_happy_little_bean



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders (Video Blogging RPF) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 23:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15829002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_happy_little_bean/pseuds/my_happy_little_bean
Summary: (AU) Patton Morgan has a story he would like to tell.~~In which Patton Morgan meets a stranger sitting on a bench near the lake, and, after sharing a few interactions with this stranger, decides that he wants to write a story about him.





	The Lake.

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: death, bruises, implications of sympathetic deceit (depends on interpretation, really), implications of abusive relationships/physical abuse, illnesses, brief mention of cancer, divorce, implied transphobia, angst [please tell me if i missed any warnings that you would like me to add!]
> 
> a/n: hiya! long time no see; my name is bean, if you have forgotten. s’nice to be here again :P
> 
> i haven’t written in a while! sorry ‘bout that; life, ya know? but i am here with a story i actually started back in may and haven’t written until, like, three days ago. it’s weird what you’ll remember of at 3 am when you’re trying to fall asleep, heh. 
> 
> anyway! this is an idea i’ve been toying with for a while; as awesome as it is to write some sweet sweet slow-burn, i’ve been dying to write some kind of love story. i guess this is my way of doing so. 
> 
> so i hope you like it! let’s get on with it, shall we?

_The Lake._

_~_

_12/09/17; 7:30 pm._

There’s someone sitting on the bench today.

Patton Morgan looks around the quiet lake; well, of course there would be a person there. He was later than usual, after all.

His eyes scan his surroundings for another empty bench and spots one not too far away, but far enough for his legs to seemingly tell him that they wouldn’t carry him much further. He pushes anxiety aside and sits down beside the person.

He can’t help but sneak a glance at the stranger—a young man—and notices he is reading a book.

Patton shakes himself out of his small daze and pulls out his notebook. He brings one of his legs up, crossing it over the other and resting his book on the side of his knee. Patton takes the pencil out from behind his ear and opens to a fresh page. He taps the edge of the page without writing anything.

He wants to write—this time, he swears, he really does—but he uses the excuse of another person’s presence to let himself get away with _tap, tap, tapping_ on the edge of his notebook.

Instead, he occasionally looks up at lake in front of him until, about thirty minutes later, Patton hears a loud horn blast in his ears. He jumps a bit and then looks to the man beside him, who closes his eyes and sighs.

When the man opens his eyes,  
_he faces Patton_  
and gives him a hasty, yet apologetic smile.

Patton doesn’t do anything until the man closes his book and leaves completely, disappearing into a red car stopped at the side of the road that stretched far beyond the field that led to the bench  _and to the lake._

He doesn’t end up writing anything because  _he can’t,_  
and so instead he continues to stare at the shimmering water before him.

Patton doesn’t think much of it.

* * *

_13/09/17; 7:34 pm._

He’s sitting there again, Patton realizes, as he sits down on the lakeside bench once more. Lo and behold, the stranger is still as deeply immersed in his book—dark red cover;  _The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland?_ —as he was yesterday.

As Patton continues to not write in his notebook, he can’t help but take small glances at the young man beside him.

He’s wearing a blue tie and a black, short-sleeved polo. A brown, leather satchel rests in between him and Patton, and the wind lifts his brown hair above his brown eyes that are focused straight ahead at the lake.

 _He looks like he’s trying to find something,_ Patton thinks _._

The stranger nearly catches him staring and Patton immediately ducks his head down, focusing his own eyes back down at his notebook. He hastily begins to write down a few words;  _I’m busy, I’m busy, I’m busy – don’t mind me_.

However, he doesn’t stop; even when the man isn’t looking at him anymore.

And suddenly,   
his page is filled with words about  _him_.

When he looks back up,  
the man is gone.

* * *

_14/09/17; 7:18 pm._

Patton’s conscious decision to get to the lake early pays off because the bench is empty. Two days ago, this would have been a blessing; he needed to get his head out of papers that weren’t bound together in a notebook and weren’t laid out in front of him by lawyers  _and he needed to be alone._

But now he just found himself to be curious.

He sits down on the bench, lifting both of his feet to the seat and setting his notebook on his knees.

He had decided that he wanted to write about this man that he’ll call Thomas for now — the man looked like a Thomas. He doesn’t know a lot about Thomas ( _not yet),_ but he decides that Thomas was a really,  _really_  handsome guy; and that his story ends when he’s ultimately at  _peace_.

He isn’t sure how that happens yet.

Patton bites his lip, tapping the edge of his notebook with his pencil to keep himself from ripping it to shreds.

Like it or not, he had  _nothing_ : unless he counted a flimsy, new infatuation; and the beginnings of a nasty, autumn cold. Besides, it was far too soon for this to happen for him — he felt a creeping loneliness brush up next to him, reminding him that  _of course_  he loved this random stranger;  _he missed love oh-so much._

He continues to stare at the lake until he feels a light breeze pass him. Patton’s head moves slightly to his left before immediately staring back at the lake with a slight blush; it was  _him_.

When he gets the courage to take another glance, Patton notices that the stranger has rested his brown satchel in between them and is reading a new book. He’s also wearing a sweater this time; open, so he still sees the black polo, but now he sees some grey as well.

And the book’s cover was now green.

“New book?” Patton suddenly blurts out. Both his and the stranger’s eyes widen;  _why on_ Earth _did he say that?_

The man faces him. “Pardon?”

Patton’s cheeks immediately go red at the sound of his voice.

“I– I just, um, noticed–” Patton breaks into an embarrassed smile as he unfolds his knees from his chest. His feet press back onto the ground– “you aren’t reading the…the same book. As…yesterday.”

The man raises his eyebrow slightly, and Patton immediately reels back.

“Ah– no! It’s, I mean, I…I’m not some weird, stalker-dude. I just–” Patton swallows down the lump in his throat– “I was just curious.”

The man takes a glance at Patton—whose hands are, admittedly, sweating—before pushing his glasses up.

“I finished my previous book last night,” the stranger answers hesitantly. “It was  _The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland_  by Lewis Carroll.”

Patton bites his tongue before he could say,  _‘I know.’_

“It was a childhood favourite of mine,” the stranger continues. “I decided to re-read it a few days ago and I suppose I went through it quickly.”

Patton chuckles lightly, still tapping his pencil against his notebook.

“That’s nice!” he chirps, his voice squeakier than he remembered it being. “I, um, hope you don’t mind me asking — I’ve been sitting here for a few days now and…and you’ve always been here, so I figured  _‘hey, why not start a small conversation on books?’ ”_  

A pause. Patton meekly adds, “Books are pretty neat.”

“I suppose that is one way to say it,” he replies.

“I guess so!” Patton smiles brightly at him, and to his surprise, the stranger smiles kindly back. Patton immediately relaxes his shoulders and his grip on his pencil loosens.

“I, um–” The man clears his throat– “I have also noticed that we often find ourselves…situated beside each other around this sort of time.” He looks down at his feet, averting his glance from Patton. “I initially thought it was a mere happenstance, so I did not think much of it. But it has, for me, grown to be a…pleasant coincidence.”

“I mean, yeah!” Patton feels himself grow flustered. “I think it’s nice that we’re always here. It’s…it’s nice here.”

“Indeed,” the other hums.

They sit in silence for a few more minutes before Patton hears the familiar blast of three car horns in his ears. He still jumps at the loud noise and this time, the stranger just pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Apologies,” the stranger says, slowly standing up and slinging his satchel around his shoulder. “My acquaintance, Roman, is quite the…character. Indescribable, really.”

“Yeah, you are,” Patton says dreamily, almost without thinking. When he feels Logan’s stare on him, his smile immediately drops.

“Pardon?”

“N-Nothing!” he exclaims. Logan raises an eyebrow at him and Patton laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile. “I’m gonna take it that you have to leave then?”

“I do.” A pause. “So…good night.” 

The man nods at Patton as his goodbye. Patton’s eyes widen.

“Wait!” The man turns around at the sudden exclamation and frowns. Patton bites down on his lip.

“I…can I tell you something?” His voice comes out high and squeaky. “I-It’ll be quick, I promise.”

“…I’m listening.”

“Hi ‘listening’, I’m Patton,” he immediately says, and it takes a split second before the stranger got the joke. Patton desperately tries to cover his embarrassment. 

“I– Sorry, sort of an, um, automatic thing for me.” Patton gives him a sheepish smile. “Anyway, I…I just figured as I’m probably seeing you tomorrow, I’d, ya know, introduce myself!”

A beat of silence passes before the man extends his hand.

“My name is Logan.”

Patton, almost awe-struck, shakes his hand slowly;  
suddenly, the world didn’t seem so loud anymore.

The horn—from Roman’s car, Patton now assumes—blasts loudly three more times, and they are quickly broken apart.

“Well, it was a pleasure meeting your acquaintance,” the man— _Logan_ —says, slowly backing up. “Until tomorrow, I suppose.”

“Until tomorrow,” Patton murmurs, more so to himself, as Logan leaves. He watches him climb into the red car and disappears.

A minute later, Patton lets out a huge breath — one he feels he was holding during the entirety of his and…and  _Logan’s_  exchange.

 _Logan_.

He flips open an old page in his notebook, one with the scrawled words of the previous night, mixed with the ones from half an hour ago.

‘ ~~thomas~~   _logan_.

  * he likes big words.



(He hesitantly adds, ‘ _indescribable_ ’.)

* * *

_15/09/17; 7:23 pm._

The stranger— _Logan_ —is early now too. Patton sees him sitting on the bench, his ankles crossed, with a new book on his lap; this time, a navy blue cover.

Patton musters up the courage to call out, “Hey, Logan!”

Logan looks up from his book before locking eyes with Patton, moving his satchel to his other side and making room for Patton. He swiftly takes a seat beside him and places his notebook on his lap. Logan shares a warm smile.

“Patton,” he greets. For some reason, hearing Logan say his name makes him feel butterflies in his stomach. Patton clears his throat, clearing the silence before it lingers for too long. He looks down at Logan’s book.

“I see you have a new book!” he chirps. “Didn’t like the last one or somethin’?”

“Finished it,” Logan hums. “ _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer,_  Mark Twain. It was a fantastic read; a timeless book, really–”

“You finished it?” Patton echoes back, cutting Logan off. He breaks into a small laugh. “You were at the beginning when I first saw you with it. Do…do you ever get sleep? That’s, like, one day to finish– what, two-hundred-something pages?”

“Two-hundred and seventy four,” Logan corrects lightly.

“Sure,” Patton breaks into a small laugh, almost amused. “Well either way, you’re some book-bot or something; that kind of speed is pretty impressive!”

“Well, I suppose I’ve been having a bit more motivation to read more than usual,” Logan replies nonchalantly. “My acquaintance, Roman– I have mentioned Roman, I’m sure?” Patton nods eagerly, and Logan pushes his glasses up as he continues. “Well, Roman suggested that I do more of what can make me happy for a few days. I thought the idea was absurd; besides, I do not have much time to–”

Logan pauses, seemingly hesitant to finish. Patton frowns.

“Yeah?” he asks, waiting for him to go on. Logan doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and Patton is almost afraid he dipped his toes into something he shouldn’t have.

“Nothing,” Logan finally says. He clears his throat. “Apologies, I went on a tangent. Point is, I have been asked to do what makes me happy, and reading makes me…feel.  _Happy_ , that is.”

Patton can’t help but get lost in the small sparkle in Logan’s eyes when he says that.

His heart begins to race and he smiles widely, hoping it would cover up his sudden blush.

“W-Well,” he manages to get out, “don’t let me bother you then! I– I’ll just get back to what I’m doing, a-and…yeah! Enjoy, um…” He looks at Logan, almost expectantly. Logan looks down at his book with a fond smile.

“ _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_ ,” Logan says. Patton nervously smiles.

“Enjoy that then!” he chirps, before hastily opening his notebook and hunching forward. He clumsily writes down as much as he can;  _I’m busy now, I’m busy, I’m–_

“What are you writing?” Logan suddenly asks, and Patton’s hand freezes. He looks up at Logan, who pushes up his glasses, adding, “I apologize if I misuse the term, but may I… _sneak a peek?”_

Patton nervously laughs.

“Um, maybe when it’s presentable?” He presses the notebook to his chest. “It’s…a book I’m working on. Or at least I think it’s a book. I’m a writer.”

“Oh?” Patton sees a flash of curiosity on Logan’s face. “That’s fascinating. I was not aware of that.”

“Yeah, it’s sort of a hobby, I guess?” Patton rubs the back of his neck, almost embarrassed that Logan even caught him. “It’s a hobby for now, I hope. I haven’t really written anything big yet.” 

Logan nods in understanding.

“Working on a debut novel then?”

“Sure, I guess when you put it like that!” Patton beams. “I have been stuck on it for a while, but I kinda hit a bump on inspiration lane–”

“That is not a street I know of,” Logan interrupts, tilting his head slightly to the side. Patton feels a rush of confusion before breaking into grin.

“Er, just a figurative lane, Lo,” he laughs. To his surprise, Logan chuckles softly as well, and Patton feels as if a circle of rainbows and flowers cartoon hearts explode around them and the bench they were sitting on.

“A-Anyway,” he says, trying to push down his sudden nerves, “I’ve been in the writing mood as of late, so I’ve been trying to take advantage of it. Maybe I can finally get my agent off my back, heh. He’s been wanting to  _book_  me a meeting with a publisher for a loooong time.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Logan replies lightly.  _Joke missed, I guess,_ Patton thinks. “May I ask what it is about?”

_It’s about you._

“I-It’s…it’s a fantasy novel,” Patton blurts out. “A-And a…flower shop story.”

“…Oh?”  _Welp, I’m oh-so screwed._  “That sounds…intriguing, to say the least.”

“Yeah!” Patton forces a grin. “It’s about a dragon. A dragon who…who works at a flower shop in a fantasy land. She befriends a…a warrior princess.”

“…How intriguing.” Patton nods rapidly.

“Uh-huh, yup. It’s super cool. I’m thinking of calling it, um…I’m thinking of calling it Game of  _Thorns!_ ”

“I believe you mean  _Game of Thrones_ – oh.”

Patton nods, a bit proud of that one – maybe the idea isn’t a complete loss.

“Yeah, the idea’s not big on my agent yet, but Remy is a sucker for weird stuff — I’m sure it’ll warm up to him once I actually write something, heh.”

To his surprise, Logan smiles. 

“Well then, I will be the first to say that I cannot wait to read it,” he says. 

The butterflies return in Patton’s stomach.

The half hour passes by rather slowly after that. Logan and Patton exchange small notes of conversation within the time that they’re there before the three car horns blare in their ears and Logan bids Patton farewell.

He quickly rips out a page that he filled with potential dragon races and flower types and pockets it;  _you never know._

* * *

_25/09/17; 7:43 pm._

The next few days go by, each one like the last; a few shared conversations in the half hour they have together before three car horns blare and they’re time is up. 

Patton learns that Logan has lived here for a while, and that Roman is not only Logan’s ‘acquaintance,’ but he’s also his roommate. Roman is an actor, so he’s always singing loudly in the shower at 3 am. But he gets groceries on time and cooks fantastic lasagna, so Logan keeps complaining to a minimum.

He also has a cat named Dante; he’s a Siamese cat, black and white, 3 years old. Patton decides that he would die for this cat (and probably will die because of this cat if ever met him; he admits to Logan that he is deathly allergic, and Logan scoffs at his infatuation with cats despite this).

Patton learns that, believe it or not, Logan is friends with a guy named Thomas. He admits that he is more of a friend of Roman’s, and visits him more so for his cat than anything else — or so he claims. Thomas is studying chemical engineering and theatre, and he goes to school with Logan; or, at least, went to school with Logan.

“You’re fairly young,” Patton says, biting into his sandwich as he puts his pencil down on the pages of his notebook. “It’s not like I’m judging or anything—I think any route is the perfect route if you chose it, of course—but I’m just wondering what happened? From what I sense, you’re pretty smart, kiddo; I would’ve guessed you were on your way to a master’s degree in some fancy science.”

Logan sighs, staring out at the shimmering lake in front of them.

“I was majoring in advanced biochemistry and astronomy,” he says nonchalantly. “Knowing that I was learning more about the world around me and the world outside of our own; those aspects were a prominent driving force in motivating me to continue for as long as I did. As difficult as the courses were, they made me happy for a while. I was very passionate about it — if I could have continued it, I would have.”

“Then…why don’t you?”

Logan shrugs. “I just do not have that kind of time anymore, I suppose.”

Patton nods. 

“Eh, what can you do. Time is pretty scarce anyway, kiddo.” He grins. “Besides, I’m sure now you can learn more about the world now that you’re not cooped up in a classroom! Maybe you can take a road trip or somethin’ with a friend!”

Logan chuckles half-heartedly, not tearing his focus away from the lake.

“Maybe,” he muses, and breaks into a small smile.

And just the thought that he could make Logan happier   
makes Patton feel like he was doing something right.

Before he loses the thought, he scribbles down a snippet of their conversation and a small daydream of what it might feel like to fly high in the sky— _beyond the lake_ —together.

* * *

_29/09/17; 7:54 pm._

Logan isn’t sitting on the bench the next evening, and he continues to not be there for another twenty minutes. 

Patton doesn’t mind—he can probably do without the lingering presence of the unknown star of is book—and so he pulls out his phone and for five minutes, he goes through what he’ll say to her one more time and forces himself to confirm his court date.

Then he shuts his phone off completely and writes and he writes and he writes; until his hand cramps and until the feeling dies out a bit. He doesn’t even notice Logan sitting down beside him until he taps him on the shoulder.

“Hey,” Logan says lightly, a small smile on his face. Patton perks up and breaks into a grin, immediately dropping his notebook onto the sidewalk in front of the bench and wrapping Logan in an unexpected hug.

“Logan!” he chirps, squeezing him tightly without really thinking about it. He doesn’t feel Logan’s arms hug back, which concerns him a bit; but after a while, he is softly patted on the back—almost hesitantly—by Logan.

“It’s, um, a pleasure to see you as well,” Logan says, pulling out of the hug. Patton reels back as well, rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed. He picks up his notebook off the ground and when he lifts himself back up, he notices Logan rubbing his arm, wincing a bit. He frowns.

“Oh geez, did I hurt you? I’m sorry for hugging you so out of the blue, I am just happy to see you. I’m–”

“No, no, Patton, all is well.” Logan rests his arm on his lap and sighs, as if exhaling any kind of discomfort out of his system. “I am just a bit…sore. I have had a long day.”

Patton closes his notebook and faces him, his arm resting on the top of the backrest bench.

“Well, spill the details then!” Patton smiles widely at him. “I got as much time as you do, kiddo.”

Logan pauses for a second.

“Well, I…” He looks as if he’s trying to find his words. “I had a doctor’s appointment today,” Logan finally says. “I went to the library this afternoon to read for a few hours before Declyn picked me up, but he was caught in traffic. I was late to the appointment, thus setting me late for this…meeting, I suppose, to put it in best terms?” He sighs. “I really do apologize, Patton.”

“Not a problem!” Patton says. “Logan, life gets busy; I get it. I’m sorry you had such a hectic day though.”

Logan nods, seemingly thankful, and Patton hesitates, almost afraid to say another word in fear of the answer. He takes a deep breath when the gap of silence becomes a bit unbearable.

“Um, Logan?” Patton asks quietly. Logan turns towards him.

“Hm?”

“This…Dylan person–”

“Declyn.”

“Declyn, right, sorry.” Patton presses his thumbs together, looking down at his shoes. “Is he– is he another…friend of yours?”

A beat of silence. Logan frowns.

“Um, no,” Logan answers. “Declyn is my significant other.”

* * *

_30/09/17; 8:06 pm._

Patton’s heart isn’t shattered (how could it be, anyway?). Even if it was, he made sure it was not at all visible — especially to Logan.

Because Logan is supposed to be happy, and Declyn probably makes him happy — who is he to interfere with that? Besides, a new, blossoming relationship probably isn’t exactly what he needs right now; he needs to move on, and a flimsy infatuation wasn’t going to help that.

It was probably for the best, he sullenly decides.

He, however, also decides that he wants to learn more about Declyn.

And in their last few encounters at the lake, he does exactly that: he finds out that Declyn is two years older than Logan—who, he also learns, is 26 years old—and his name was Daniella once. He works at a tattoo parlor for extra cash after being kicked out of his home at 17. He gave Logan his first tattoo when he was 21—a few planets running down the lower part of his arm, with some stars in between them—and not long after that tattoo, he invited Logan to grab a drink with him. Not too long after that, Logan got his second one tattoo — a small snake wrapped around a tiny heart near his heart.  

Logan says that he has been with Declyn for a long time;   
he’s been with him through everything.

_Patton has not._

So Patton’s not heartbroken; that all sounded  _awesome_. And Declyn seems lovely. Logan seems happy to be with him, and that’s all Patton could want for Logan. It’s what he deserves.

Besides, he’s written fiction before;  
he can write fiction again.

Patton begins to notice that he has also become more open after that day. He finds himself rambling to Logan about how he always loved writing—he once wrote a  _Romeo and Juliet_  fanfic for an English assignment in uni because he hated how the ending played out—and Logan occasionally smiles at the stories of his childhood days at his uncle’s farm.

And over the countless anecdotes of how he only gets mad when he plays Mario Kart, or of his childhood dog, Barkley, Logan’s eyes eventually leave the lake and, more often than not, are on Patton; almost observing every part of him. Just feeling Logan’s stare on him makes his heart feels better — it feels like it always had.

He’s stuffed Logan with numerous of stories, and the more he thinks about it, the more he settles down on the core reason why:  _he’s afraid he won’t come back._

But Logan returns, just as he always does; for now.

“I am sorry, Patton, I truly am; but may you repeat that again?” Logan asks in between Patton’s laughs. “Your dog did  _what?_ ”

“He bit a squirrel’s tail!” Patton giggles, rubbing the back of his neck, almost embarrassed. “Look, he was, like, three at the time, he didn’t know any better. And I’ll have you know that I made him apologize to Mr. Squirrely! They became fairly good friends after! It’s a happy ending for the backyard buds.”

“Right,” Logan chuckled. The laughter finally dies down, and Patton sighs, a smile still pasted on his face as he turned to face the lake.

Despite the fact that he’s been sitting in front of this sight week for a few weeks now—even longer, if he forces himself to think about it—he’s never really taken much of the scenery in. The lake always sparkled below the horizon that stretched across. The autumn season has brought the sun’s reign in the sky to a stop quicker and quicker each night, but Patton has always been lucky to catch the sunset before he left. He wouldn’t want to miss it for the world; an array of  pink and orange and yellow; mixing together and briefly illuminating the water. 

It was beautiful out here;   
if he had the choice, he’d never leave.

_‘Speaking– well, thinking of which…’_

“Say, it’s a little bit past 8,” Patton points out. “Roman should be ‘round here by now?”

Logan’s smile falls.

“Um, Roman is not picking me up tonight.” Patton’s smile falls as well; that doesn’t sound as nonchalant as it probably should have been.

“Oh?”

“Yes–” Logan averts his glance from Patton, tugging at the loose sleeves of his grey sweater– “we are currently in a bit of a…disagreement.”

“…Oh.” Patton swallows down a lump in his throat. “I– I’m sorry for bringing it up. If I had known, I wouldn’t have– I promise, I–”

“No, no, you have good intent,” Logan says. “I would not have told you anyway if the subject was not brought up.” Patton bites down on his lip, and Logan adds, “It should be over soon.” 

Logan’s voice suddenly sounds small. Patton learns that he doesn’t like that; not one bit.

“Um, if you’d like, I can walk you home?” Patton suggests. “I-I don’t know how far away you live, but we can stop by my place and I can grab my keys and drive you home if you’d like–”

“Declyn will probably think it would be… _weird_  if I went home with a random person,” Logan says. “Thank you, Patton, but he will be picking me up tonight.”

Patton feels as if his heart stops.

“Right.”  _Tense. Tense. Tense_. “Of course! Sorry if I seem pushy — you know I just, um, care about you, kiddo! S’all.”

“No, no, do not apologize.” Logan smiles at him, but Patton feels something a bit too familiar about that painted smile. “I apologize if I seem a bit off-putting. It is just–”

“No, don’t apologize either!” Patton drops it. He’ll drop it for now. “Neither of us are in the wrong; maybe we’ll just both not apologize; whaddya say?”

Logan smiles again. “Sure.”

Suddenly, the thick air around them is cut through with the  _ring!_  of a text tone. Logan looks at Patton apologetically and as he lifts his phone to his face, his sleeves fall slightly down his arm and Patton recognizes it as the arm with his planet tattoos.

The sleeve lands a little above his elbow, and Patton catches a glimpse of the planets further from the sun — which, Patton discovered once, is on his shoulder; his third tattoo.

_‘Pluto, Neptune, small purple bruise, Uranus, Saturn– wait.’_

Patton blinks.

“Bruise.”

Logan looks up from his phone to see a rather horrified Patton. He raises an eyebrow.

“Pardon?”

Patton doesn’t know what else to say other than, “It’s…nothing.”

He was sure that’s what it was.  
_Nothing._

* * *

_02/10/17; 7:29 pm._

Patton learns that, apparently, Logan has been trying to get better at jokes. To get back at Roman, he claims. 

He tests some out with Patton this evening and he tries; he  _really_  tries. Even if Patton gets most of them, they’re often very long and complex. The punchline gets lost more often than not, stuck in between some “um’s” and “uh’s”.

Patton, despite his best efforts, can only force a laugh.

* * *

_06/10/17; 7:29 pm._

“Patton?”

“Yeah?”

“What brings you here to the lake every evening?”

Patton taps his pencil against his notebook—he hasn’t really written in it for a while, he notices—as he looks up at Logan wordlessly.

“…Is everything alright?”

“Um, yeah. It’s…it’s just an weird question, s’all.” Patton, more often than not, has been speaking quiet like this too. That was probably weirder. “Give me a second.”

Logan does, and Patton scrunches his face up in thought.

Admittedly, he’s been here longer than Logan has ever been here — what, four years now? Maybe five? 

If Patton was being honest, he didn’t think he would come back here anymore after what had happened. It was actually out of a desire for some writing-inspiration (and a bit of nostalgia-traced guilt) that he went back to the lake again.

But he would never tell Logan that.

He would never tell him that when he first moved here,   
_this lake was the first thing she and him had seen._

Elizabeth always loved the water — she convinced Patton once that she was a mermaid in her past life; that was a fun memory.

Sooner or later, the lake was where they had their first picnic,   
and their first dance.

Their first fight,  
and their last kiss.

Patton sighs, closing his notebook.

“It’s very pretty here,” he finally says, “and I need to write  _somewhere.”_

* * *

_11/10/17; 7:47 pm._

Logan doesn’t talk much for a few days.

Patton doesn’t mind — he’s still there anyway, and he will take Patton up on his cookie offer when he has some; that was more important to him. Whenever Logan catches a look at his notebook, he will gladly weave a short story about a dragon burning a  _lot_ of daffodils and a warrior-princess asking for bouquets of flowers with the wrong meanings; all of this just to make the chances of Logan seeing his own name on the pages smaller. 

Sometimes, it will seemingly amuse Logan.

He’ll even avoid a call from Remy (he’s been getting louder lately ever since Patton sent him a draft of the first few chapters; the only ones he’s written so far), or from his lawyer, or from Elizabeth. 

(Though when it’s too quiet,   
he’ll run through what he’ll say to her again in his head.)

He decides he’ll ignore the whole world to tell Logan his fictional-fictional story; even if he doesn’t respond.

If he was being completely honest, he was almost  _worried_ for him. He’s been getting small nods and smiles from Logan, but that’s it. The sweater he wears seemingly covers up whatever he saw a few days ago, but the image of the bruise still didn’t leave his mind; neither did Declyn’s name.

This evening, Patton forces Logan out of his brain in favour of writing; even if the story he was writing was about him. Logan isn’t here anyway—he’s at another appointment—so Patton decides that tonight, he is a fiction-writer again and nothing more.

* * *

_14/10/17; 7:38 pm._

“Hey Patton?”

“Yeah?”

“If I were to offer you a cat, would you take him?”

“Oh my gosh,  _yes_! Are you  _kitten_  me right  _meow_?!”

“…I am not.”

“Honestly, Lo, that would be a dream come tr– oh wait, I’m allergic!”

“This is purely hypothetical, Patton, I am not planning on giving you a cat–”

“Ah, who am  _I_ kitten?! I guess that doesn’t really matter; I’d love a cat! Who wouldn’t want the gift of a kitty in their lives?!”

“…that is the most logical response, is it not? That is precisely what I told him.”

* * *

_17/10/17; 7:26 pm._

Patton didn’t think it was possible, but he finds out that the grey beanie nestled on Logan’s head—even if it covers most of his chocolate-coloured hair—makes him even more  _beautiful_.

* * *

_21/10/17; 7:32 pm._

It’s a more tense day, Patton thinks. Logan looks as if he’s trying to shoot down the lake with his stare alone. 

However, when Logan  _does_ talk, he tells him that the fight with Roman has finally simmered down. The idea admittedly surprises Patton. It has been well over weeks now; what could’ve happened that would’ve made it last that long?

More and more signs pointed to the  _bruise_.

 _Declyn_.

“Hey Logan?” Patton hated assuming things.

Logan looks over at him. “Yes?”

“Does Roman know about Declyn?”

Logan’s face darkens, and Patton immediately reels back.

“I– you don’t have to answer that, obviously.” Patton nervously laughs;  _oh no_. “I’m just…I don’t know, a bit curious, to say the least? You’ve been looking a bit down nowadays anyway and I know you and Roman had this fight, I’m guessing that’s what it is–”  _Am I really still talking? Jesus Christ–_  “which I get is super pushy, so I’m sorry I even asked—”

“He does know about Declyn.” Patton’s mouth closes and Logan raises an eyebrow at him, adding nonchalantly, “What? I have no reason not to answer the question.”

Patton gulps. “Right.”

Logan adjusts his glasses, taking in a breath before continuing to speak.

“It’s a rather odd thing, however, to mention; that Declyn has anything to do with my disagreement with Roman.” Patton feels as if Logan’s voice is closing in on him. “Anything that led to your assumption?”

Patton bites his lip and looks down at the ground.

“I, um–”  _Why are you saying this, why are you saying this; just drop it, please–_  “I saw this bruise on your arm a while back.”

Logan blinks, and in his panic, Patton nearly misses the moment when Logan’s hand moves to the spot where Patton saw the bruise.

“I– I know it isn’t any of my business,” he continues, stumbling over his words, “but I’m just…concerned. S’all.”

Logan’s grasp on his arm tightens.

“You have not met Declyn, have you?”

Patton’s heart begins to race.

“N-No, obviously not–”

“Then you do not  _know_  Declyn.” His knuckles are turning white around his arm now, Patton notices. “The quality of my relationship with Declyn— _a relationship that has lasted far longer than ours_ —is perfectly adequate. You are not in the right to assume  _anything_.”

Patton’s words get stuck in his throat.

“I– I’m sorry.” His voice gets scratchier and scratchier as he tries desperately to swallow down a sob. “You’re right, I’m sorry, it’s just that–”

Logan looks at Patton expectantly. Patton looks up at Logan.

“I know I haven’t known you for too long,” Patton says, his voice small, “and that you have a completely different life outside of this half hour we have. But…I care about that life. I care enough about it. I’m sorry.”

Logan says nothing for a while. Patton is used to it now—he swears he is—but the silence stings regardless. 

“Your concern is duly noted.” 

Logan stands up, slinging his satchel over his head and around his chest. Patton’s gaze desperately follows his movement. Logan briefly looks down at his feet.

“I…I apologize for snapping, Patton.” His voice sounds strained. “I have had a terribly long day, a-and I just…”

Logan hesitates, and Patton takes the silence by its reins. 

“Logan, you don’t have to ap–”

He immediately stops because Logan is now staring down at him, a glimpse of tears in his eyes.

All of the sudden, Patton catches the glimpse of this indescribable kind of  _pain_ behind his irises; one that he hadn’t seen in anyone before but  _himself_.

It’s the kind of pain that craves solace; one that craves some kind of relief from the hurting.

It’s the kind of pain that craves  _peace_ ,  
and knows that it’ll never get it.

Logan clears his throat.

“I apologize,” Logan says again; firmer now. “I just don’t have the time.”

And with that, Patton watches  
as Logan finally leaves.

* * *

_22/10/17; 7:46 pm._

Logan is not at their bench tonight, and Patton sits down there anyway because the lake makes the air around him cooler and he has a deadline to meet on this new chapter; even if their story has, like it or not, been put on a sudden hiatus.

* * *

_23/10/17; 7:59 pm._

Logan is not at their bench tonight. Seeing the blur of a red car on his way to the lake forces Patton to write seven more pages, pushing on even the smallest of details of the happier parts of their story. 

He even thinks a bit more of the fictional dragon-ran-flower-shop story; he’ll run the idea of it becoming a children’s book by Logan when he tells him that the story he’s writing right now is actually about him.

* * *

_24/10/17; 8:21 pm._

Logan is not at their bench tonight; and thus, four more pages are filled.

Patton is going to tell him that the story is  _their_  story tomorrow evening.

* * *

_25/10/17; 8:48 pm._

Logan is not at their bench tonight. Patton stares out at the lake, the now-filled notebook sitting neatly on his lap. 

He doesn’t write. 

He’s never stayed out here this late before either.

He just watches the sun set; and for once he watches the stars appear in the reflection of the water.

* * *

_26/10/17; 8:58 pm._

Patton is suddenly afraid;   
what if he can never write another love story again?

* * *

_27/10/17; 9:12 pm._

He’ll tell Logan tonight because _Logan’s going to show up tonight_.

* * *

_28/10/17; 7:30 pm._

Logan is not at the bench tonight. Patton decides that he didn’t even know Logan that well anyway.

* * *

 _29/10/17; 10:03 pm_.

Logan is not at the bench tonight,  
and Patton cries.

* * *

_30/10/17; 7:30 pm._

Logan is not at the bench tonight.

Neither is Patton.

_~_

_13/02/17; 6:21 pm._

“Hey, Pat?”

He turns to face Elizabeth. Her brow is furrowed as she stares out at the water, the sky’s cotton-candy-coloured light reflecting off its surface.

“Yes, Liz?”

She frowns.

“We’re not in love anymore,” she says, not breaking eye contact with the lake, “are we?”

Patton can’t help but stare at her, almost as if burning his stare right through her might change her mind;  _please, oh please, change your mind._

“That would only happen i-if–” Patton walks up to her, tightly gripping her hands in his– “that would only happen if we weren’t happy anymore. _Aren’t we happy?”_

Elizabeth is crying — oh  _God_ , what has he done?

“I hope you find someone that makes you happier,” she finally says. His grasp on her hands soften. “You know I love you a lot, I just– I don’t know you anymore, Pat.” Her laugh is strained. “You know how much it pisses me off when I don’t know things, don’t you?”

“Liz, I–” She shakes her head, silencing him in an instant.

“I just can’t stand being unhappy either,” she says,   
and that’s all she needs to say.

Patton bites the bottom of his lip as Elizabeth lets go.

“We’ll call someone about this, yeah?”

Patton numbly nods.

“I love you, Liz,” he says before she leaves in the direction of their home. “I’m sorry that it wasn’t enough.”

Elizabeth turns back around and faces him.

“Patton, darling,” she says, “you’d love  _anyone_. For however long.”

She smiles. “It’ll always be enough, no matter what.”

* * *

_03/11/17; 7:34 pm._

There’s someone at their bench.  _Finally_.

As Patton moves closer and closer, he sees the silhouette of a figure wearing a grey beanie, and the breath he’s been holding all this time finally escapes. 

He breaks into a small smile.

He thinks about calling out his name—even if it seems foreign on his tongue—and then run up to him and sweep him up in his arms. 

But then he realizes that the trope wouldn’t work  _if they weren’t happy_  and if he was sitting down.

Instead he sits down beside him, his leather satchel separating the two of them. He places a new notebook down on his lap and takes the pencil out from behind his ear and begins to write; he knows now, word for word, their story. Or at least, what was left of it.

So he writes and he writes and he writes  _and he doesn’t know who he’s writing for_ , but he continues to write without that kind of fire anyway.

He writes and writes and writes; until the burning feeling in his chest dies out.

He writes and writes and writes.

He writes and writes until–

“New book?”

He looks up and faces Logan,  
whose skin looks paler than he remembered.

Patton breaks into a teary smile,  
and Logan just hugs him.

He hugs him until the three loud horns blare in their ears,   
and Patton feels a rush of what felt like  _home._

(“That was what is known as a ‘callback’.  
“…It was a good one. Really good.”)

* * *

_04/11/17; 7:48 pm._

“There’s a lot to catch up on, huh?” Patton says as he offers Logan a cookie. Logan politely holds up his hand— _no, thanks_ —but he nods.

“I suppose there is.” 

He’s staring out at the lake again. Patton presses his thumbs together, almost feeling awkward.

“I, um, visited my uncle yesterday!” Patton blurts out. Logan looks at him.

“Oh?” Patton nods sheepishly.

“Yeah.” He frowns. “It wasn’t under the best circumstances, unfortunately. My aunt passed away. Cancer.”

“…Oh.” Logan clears his throat. “My condolences.”

“Thank you.” Patton forces him to smile again. “But hey, it’s part of life, I guess. I got to see Barkley again, which is always a treat; no squirrels this time though, heh.”

“I really am sorry to hear about your aunt,” Logan says, almost insistently. Patton puts every fibre of his effort to work and he just shrugs.

“She was at peace,” he says as nonchalantly as possible. “She knew it was happening; my uncle even told me she was pretty good at reminding people of it, which is crazy, right?” Patton chuckles lightly. “She wanted to make the most of her life, and…”

A beat of silence fills the air.  _Why is this so hard for me to say?_  Patton thinks.  _I’m a writer. I’ve written about death before._

He pauses, re-evaluating the thought.  _No he hasn’t._

“Well,” he finally manages to say, “she was surrounded by the people she loved and people who loved her too. And because she accepted that kind of truth, I guess she managed to die happy. She was at peace; that’s all that’s important, right?”

Logan says nothing for a while, and Patton wonders if he said the wrong thing.

“What’s new with you?” he asks. Logan shrugs. 

“Nothing much.” A pause. “I have been taking the bus nowadays. 8:05 pm. It gets me home later, but it spares me from Roman’s horrifically loud music and from seeing him flip off drivers for his own faults.”

Patton laughs. “Bus rides are always fun.”

“I suppose they are,” he replies. “They are not free, but it is nice to give Roman some more time for himself.”

They sit in those words for a while before Logan breaks the silence with a small cough. 

“Um, Patton?” Patton looks at him and he looks down. “Declyn and I…we are no longer together.”

Patton’s smile falls.

“Logan, I–”  _Patton, whatever the circumstance, never liked when people fell out of love–_ “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Logan shakes his head. “It is nothing, you do not have to worry.”

Patton averts his glance. “May…may I ask why?”

Logan frowns, and Patton curses himself; why would he ask  _that?_  

“Patton, may I confide in you?” 

Patton nods; though a bit of him felt scared at the responsibility, and a large part of him felt scared that Logan was going to tell him that he was right.

“Declyn and I–” The words come out scratchy, and Patton fears that Logan will start crying. “We had our disagreements in the past, but five years is a long time and–” He hesitates, almost as if he was trying to find the words (or he was struggling to say the words he already had)– “and I loved him. For a long time.”

Logan looks down at his feet. “I know you have no reason to believe me, but I must tell you, there has been a misunderstanding.”

A beat of silence.

“I loved Declyn, and he loved me as well. I just…” He adjusts his glasses, as if trying to keep himself together. “I think he loved me too much to let me go, if that makes sense? I told him that it was illogical for us to remain together—there was just no more time anymore—but I believe he did not want to believe in that kind of truth.”

Logan presses his thumbs together. “I cannot say  _that_  I found that part illogical. It made perfect sense, I cannot blame him at all.”

Patton says nothing. Logan takes a deep breath, as if just speaking took all of his effort.

“He told himself that everything would be okay. I believed him for a while — I believed that nothing–  _no one_  can be harmed if no one told the truth. But I…” Logan pauses. “I started to become harder to look at after a while.”

“What do you mean?” Patton asks softly. Logan shakes his head.

“Five years is a long time,” Logan finally says. “I am simply not the same person that I was back then.”

Patton nods.

“We both knew that what was coming was a life he did not want. I will never blame him for that because, more often than not, he did pretend that he did.” He sighs.  “We both got hurt in the end because I chose to see that truth, even if it meant ending what was so seemingly blissful. It was the only logical thing to do.”

Logan smiles softly—it’s almost bittersweet—and he looks back out at the lake.

"I do not think he could see me anymore regardless,” Logan says. “I hope that he too accepts the truth I was forced to learn on my own. As you said earlier, that is the key to being at peace. It is important, after all, that I learn to let go.”

Patton averts his glance for a bit. “Is that why you and Roman…?”

Logan chuckles softly.

“Roman has always been good at the romantic aspects of my relationship,” he admits. “He’s helped me through a lot of it, so it was no surprise that he was the first to see through our façade.” Logan’s smile falls. “You hurt people when you refuse to give into the truth as well, I suppose.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Patton hums, and Logan looks up at him to see tears in his eyes. He then looks down at the beige file folder on his lap, replacing his notebook, and looks up at him again.

“How are you, Patton?” he finally asks. Patton pauses and sneaks a glance at the file folder as well, a fallen tear darkening a small circle in its surface.

 _‘You see, Lo,’_  he wants to tell him,  _‘I’m not supposed to be at the lake today. I should be at that damned office. I’m putting it off. I can’t see her again, I just can’t.’_

“I’m alright,” he says instead. He looks up at him with a teary smile. “I’m letting go of someone too.”

* * *

_07/11/17; 8:29 pm._

As soon as he leaves the lawyer’s office for the last time,  
he goes to the lake to tell Logan about Elizabeth.

He tells him that Elizabeth was a four months older than him and that she would bring it up whenever she had the chance. He tells him that his wedding was here, actually; in that gazebo over there, the one by that tree. Their names were probably still there, he says; unless she gave into that once-joking spite and scratched them out.

He sighs and says that he was in love with the way her hair curled up at her shoulders; that she wore floppy hats with big bows, was horrible at karaoke, and loved to dance in the rain. 

He admits that he used to tell her everything until the everything grew too big to tell. He admits that he wasn’t the perfect husband, but he also admits that maybe it was for the best that things didn’t work out. He admits that, still,  _he hated when people fell out of love._

He tells Logan that he was in love with the way she smiled at the lake.

“Is that why you always go to the lake in the evening?” Logan asks with rather tired-looking eyes; Patton  _has_  been talking for a while now.

Patton smiles.

“No,” he laughs, “I already told you why I went here; why would that change because I told you a story?”

* * *

_09/11/17; 7:28 pm._

The thin, knitted sweater,  
is replaced by a thick, puffy jacket.

The beanie remains,  
and now Logan is wearing a matching grey scarf.

_He’s still beautiful;  
which is the subject of its own chapter._

* * *

_13/11/17; 8:01 pm_

Logan slowly walks towards the bench before Patton could leave, a shaky smile on his lips. He coughs quietly as he sits down, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again and meeting the concerned look of Patton

“Are you sick?” he asks as he sits back down again. Logan forces a smile.

“A bit, yes.” He coughs again, wrapping the grey scarf tighter around his neck. “I was bound to develop a multitude of illnesses at some point; surely, staying out in this weather for too long is not beneficial for your health.

“You and your big words,” Patton giggles. “You don’t have to come here if you’re sick.”

Logan wryly smiles. “I’ve been coming here so far, no?”

Silence. Patton frowns. “Not sure I quite get that one, Lo.”

* * *

_16/11/17; 8:30 pm._

Remy calls him and forces him out of the apartment because,  _“Just ‘cause your story hasn’t met its ending yet, doesn’t mean you have to coop yourself up in your house so you can force it to. Eye bags don’t get any bigger than yours and girl, you_ know _I can last-minute book a meeting with any publisher anywhere_ pronto _.”_

And so he’s been behind on getting to the lake lately,  
but somehow he’s always the first one there.

* * *

_18/11/17; 8:12 pm._

Logan promises that he’ll get his cough looked at by a doctor tomorrow.

* * *

_22/11/17; 7:38 pm._

Patton’s late to the lake again, but what surprises him is seeing Logan already sitting there with a familiar, red-covered book in his hands. 

As he sits down with a bright smile, Logan lowers his book.

“Patton.” His voice is raspier than he remembers it being. Patton smiles.

“Aren’t you ever hot in all of those layers?” He pokes at his puffy jacket. “We live in Florida, kiddo. It doesn’t get any colder than, like, 68 degrees Fahrenheit, most likely; surprised you’re not sweating in all of that.”

Logan blushes, almost embarrassed, but doesn’t answer.

“Well either way,” Patton chirps, “It’s nice to see you again, Lo.”

“As with you.”

“Been busy with doctor appointments again?”

“Yes and no.” Logan clears his throat and smiles, almost embarrassed. “Roman forced me to be ‘quarantined’ in our apartment. I can assure you, however, that the precautions he took were nothing close to the correct method, and he failed to follow proper quarantine procedure. It was barely effective.”

“But you definitely sound better!” Patton chimes in. “It’s a plus, I would think.”

“I suppose so.”

“And hey, he did let you out of the apartment to come back here, right?”

“Sure.”

Patton beams. “Roman seems like a good friend.”

“…He is.”

A beat of silence.

“Patton?”

“Yes?”

Logan shudders, a cold breeze rushing through him.

“…Never mind.” He flashes Patton a reassuring smile. “Now is probably not the right time.”

* * *

_27/11/17; 7:58 pm._

“Have you ever missed someone that hasn’t left yet?” Patton randomly asks. 

(He’d never tell him,  
but he’s trying to pick an ending for their story.

Something profound, probably; Remy would like that.  
_He_  would like that.)

Logan doesn’t answer.

* * *

_01/12/17; 8:02pm._

Patton notices Logan smiling more than he did before as he re-tells the story of Barkley and the squirrel; per Logan’s request, believe it or not. And he tolerates more of his puns too; he laughs at more of them, actually. And he  _finally_ understands why Barkley was named Barkley.

Patton decides compliments his eyes. He’s not sure why he does—more truthfully, he’s not sure why he hasn’t already—but he’d pay to see that smile again, accompanied rush of red on Logan’s pale cheeks.

* * *

_03/12/17; 7:34 pm._

Logan has gotten more distracted, Patton notices, and he catches Logan staring, more often than not, at him now instead of the lake.

Patton does not know what to do with this observation,

but apparently his hand does;  
as he writes,  
and writes  
and writes.

* * *

_05/12/17; 7:45 pm_

“Patton?”

“Yeah, Lo?”

“…I really value our time together.”

“Aw, well Lo, I–”

“Don’t ever forget that, okay?”

“…”

“Patton?”

“…You know honestly, Lo, I don’t think there’s any way I could.”

* * *

_08/12/17; 7:57 pm._

Something feels different with Logan and Patton,  
but not entirely new.

And suddenly Logan is stuffing Patton with numerous of stories about his family; his two dads, who loved him so much. He tells Patton about how he met Roman at a carnival show, where he pulled him on stage and accidentally knocked him off it during a failed stunt, eventually accompanying him to the E.R for a fractured ankle. He tells an animated story of his time working at a department store when he was 13, and how he got fired for yelling at a customer about “their inexcusable opinion towards the monster corporation that is Sea World.”

And Patton laughs.  
This feels…nice?

Then the realization hits Patton; this feels  _familiar_.

* * *

_11/12/17; 8:01 pm._

“Did you know that Roman has taken a trip to Rome? It is the reason why I have been taking the bus, actually. He is there for an audition, and he is been there for a little over a month now. He is returning this upcoming Wednesday.” A pause. “I hate to say it, but I admittedly find myself quite alone in the apartment nowadays…”

Patton drops his pencil on the floor and looks at him.

* * *

_11/12/17; 11:59 pm._

Sleeping next to Logan feels like a dream.

* * *

_12/12/17; 7:30 pm._

“Did you know that around four months ago, we met each other for the first time?” Patton asks, staring out at the lake.

Logan frowns, wrapping the jacket around his chest.

“No, actually. No I did not.” He looks at Patton. “Has it really only been four months?”

“Pretty sure, yeah!” Patton grins, leaning back against the bench and watching the sky perform its wonders yet again. “What a great four months it’s been, eh?”

Logan nods solemnly. “Of course, Patton.”

They sit in silence for a while, relishing in what Patton can only assume is a bit of nostalgia — Logan’s even holding his copy of  _The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland,_ but it remains unopened. 

The full thirty minutes nearly pass when Patton finally breaks the silence.

“Logan?” Patton asks quietly, his thumbs pressed together. Logan turns to face him.

“Yes?”

“What brings you here to the lake every evening?”

Logan’s eyes stare at him; he’s almost  _fixated_  at him. Patton begins to wonder if the question even meant anything to Logan.

“I am not entirely sure,” he finally says. “Four months ago to this date, I went here because Roman was finished work at 7:30 pm and he was not able to pick me up from the library until around 8 pm. The lake was an unexpected stop, to say the least.”

“Oh.” Patton wasn’t sure if he felt disappointed at his answer; he certainly couldn’t put that into the book.

“However–” Patton eagerly faces him again– “three months ago, it is because I became fascinated—almost  _infatuated_ —by the stories you told.”

Patton perks up at that.

“Two months ago, it was an escape,” Logan continues; “an escape from Declyn; from Roman. From everything.”

His eyes flicker towards Patton. “Now the lake—as I suspsect it always has been—is a home to something I have not quite felt before.”

“Logan…”

He stares out at the lake, and Patton finds himself following his gaze.

“You know, for a while now, Patton, I have been trying to find some time,” he admits. “I think I have been trying to buy it from a lot of places—even from you—yet I have failed because, well, time cannot simply be bought.” 

He smiles fondly. “I believe time, however, can be well spent. And sitting on this bench for a half hour everyday with you; that is time well spent.”

Patton looks at the shimmering lake of water, which becomes blurrier in his vision.

“You said once that you cared about the life I had outside of this blissful half hour,” he says quietly, “which, to me, says a lot, considering you are not aware of anything of that life. I am very different to a lot of people. You may not know certain parts of me, but I found it fascinating that you cared about them anyway. No one has before; not the way you have.”

Silence.

“Logan?” Patton timidly asks, turning around to stare at him. “I–”

Patton immediately stops,  
because Logan isn’t looking at him.

He’s looking at the lake;  
_and he’s never looked more at peace._

“I visit the lake because I feel like something called me here,” he finally says. “Some cosmic force outside of what I studied for years; something in the universe I can never, and will never, be able to rationalize.”

He faces Patton.

“Something has brought me to you,” he says, his voice now barely above a whisper. “Something wanted to give me more time with someone that would end up changing me; with someone who would end up mattering the most.”

* * *

_12/12/17; 8:02 pm._

Logan’s hand falls from Patton’s wet cheek, their lips still barely grazing from what Patton can only describe as  _fireworks_.

“My time is up, Patton,” he says. Patton gives him a watery smile and Logan shyly adds, “That was…really lovely, Patton.”

“I wanted to do that last night, actually.” He laughs quietly. “You fall asleep really easily.”

“The movie you chose was not of interest to me,” he says bluntly. Patton fakes a gasp and they both end up laughing.

Before Logan can leave for the bus, he says,  
“I…I think I love you, Patton.”

_Fireworks._

“I love you too,” he whispers, his hand still on Logan’s. He lifts his hand to Logan’s face brushes a bit of hair from Logan’s eyes. “I’ll love you for all the time we ever have.”

Logan says nothing,  
but he nods,

and then he’s gone.

…

When he makes sure he’s completely gone,  
Patton looks back down at the small tuft of brown hair that fell on the bench.

* * *

_13/12/17; 7:43 pm._

Logan is not at their bench tonight.

* * *

December 12th, 2017.

Dear Roman,

By the time you found this letter, I am to assume that it has finally happened. You are currently in Rome, so I should make you a formal apology for having to be the first to find out. If I may be honest, I did not want to have to be alone, but that, to me, is much better than you having to be there with me. You do not deserve that. However, in all due respect, I assume that if you were here, you would tell me to wear the Gucci ‘slides’ (side note: they are sandals; I am only calling them slides because I do not want to make you upset) you bought for me as ‘a joke’.

[I am writing in the margins of this letter inform you that the last statement of the previous paragraph was a joke. Despite recent practice, I realize I am not good at humour. Though if you are not keeping those shoes, please find a way to get a refund, they were horrifically expensive. I apologize for the use of red pen and for this rather informal method of telling you this, I felt guilty that I did not clarify that in the letter and I have seemingly misplaced my pencil.]

I feel as though this letter should have been written much sooner than today, but at the same time, I did not plan on writing any of you letters. I do not think it is right to admit everything one has ever loved about a person because I believe they should simply tell it to the person upfront. I hope that I have done so with you. I imagine that the last words I told you were more than adequate.

But just in case I did not tell you this enough: you are the most valued acquaintance I have ever had, which is to say that I love you dearly.

You have given me everything, and for that I am eternally grateful. However, the reason for the existence of this letter lies in the request of a final favour.

There is this man I met on the bench near the lake where you pick me up at approximately 8 PM. His name is Patton. I have been seeing him for four months now, 7:30 PM each evening; he is the reason why I keep going to the library at night, despite your warnings against it. I recall that you once saw him before we left the lake one evening — this is the same gentleman you described as “Count Dad-ula; cardigans are for wearing at the very least”. I should inform you that ‘wearing’ is probably the incorrect usage of that verb.

He is writing a very…interesting story—one I imagine you would enjoy—in a notebook, and he sits by the lake everyday to write it. He has the most fascinating mind; I would hope that, one day, you two become acquainted and he shares some of his thoughts with you.

I do not believe in soulmates. I do not think that there is any higher power that could draw two people together. I have told you many times that it is preposterous to think that there is only one person for everyone; that there are simply just the right people. After all, that is why I think you will be happy with the right person.

That is why I believe Patton will find someone else.

Please tell him that when you meet him the night you read this. 7:30 PM. He probably knows by now, but please provide a proper explanation and the reassurance he requires.

Do this until he is at peace. 

I love you, Roman.

Best regards,  
Logan Fray.

P.S: Please give Dante to Thomas.

* * *

_20/12/17; 1:12 am._

Logan is not at the bench tonight,  
and Patton has to learn that he will never be there again.

_~_

**Epilogue**. 

_12/09/20; 4:12 pm._

Patton Morgan walks through the doors of his local Barnes & Noble with his head high and a smile pasted on his face.

Remy, of course, is at the door. He slides down his sunglasses and gives Patton a sparkling smile and a caramel macchiato.

“Go get ‘em, darling,” he says and he winks. He actually winks.

Patton nods;   
_I can’t believe I’m so lucky._

Roman, Thomas, and Dante are behind the curtain of the mini-makeshift stage. Roman is watching people fill in the seats reserved for the book event and it is until Thomas nudges him that he notices Patton walk in. He beams, leaning away from the curtain and immediately sweeping Patton into a big hug, nearly knocking the book out of Patton’s hand.

“There’s the man of the hour!” he says cheerily, reeling back briefly to whistle at his grey blazer. He placed his hands on his shoulder and beams. “Lookin’ fine, Padré!”

“What can I say; this outfit simply just  _suits_  me!”

“…Please don’t ruin the moment,” Roman says, a grin still plastered his face. Patton laughs.

“I won’t,” he says, and Roman pulls him into another hug.

“It’s good to see you, Pat.”

“Good to see you too,” he says, and he’s being honest; it  _is_  nice to see him. It wasn’t for a while—he sometimes felt like Roman was all that was left of Logan—but Patton doesn’t like thinking about that anymore; he was happy to be Roman’s friend.

Speaking of which…

“I am already sorry for Roman’s…everything,” Thomas speaks up from behind him. “This has to be a new record.”

“Nothin’ wrong with a little bit of affection, kiddo!” Thomas rolls his eyes and  Patton beams at him. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Thomas.”

He grins. “It’s nice to see you too, Pat.”

Patton looks down at Dante in Thomas’ arms and immediately grins.

“And it’s nice to see you too, Dante!” He leans over and gives him a small head rub. “My favourite kitty!” 

Dante purrs sofly, and Thomas chuckles, pulling the cat away slightly.

“Don’t get too close,” he says smugly; “no one wants to see a New York Times bestselling author with puffy red eyes. They’ll think you got high.”

“Thomas, my favourite bean; I  _am_  high right now! High as the very clouds above us!”

Roman lets out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Ah– hm. Pat, that’s not…that’s not really what…hm.”

“You’d think that a writer such as yourself would be good with words.” Thomas mutters, but a hint of a smile peeks out. 

“Ignore him over there, Pat.” Roman grabs the book out of Patton’s hands before he could say anything. “Today is about  _you_.”

Patton blushes, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. Thomas rolls his eyes and continues to pet Dante for a few more minutes.

“When do you go on?” Roman asks as he opens the book.

“In five minutes, I think?” Patton grins. “I’m waiting to be  _page_ -d in about it.”

“Aaaand I’m out,” Thomas says, stalking over to a chair with Dante.

“I don’t– hey, come back! If it makes you feel better, I don’t even have a pager! Do you know where to find one of those, actually; I feel like I  _should_ haveone _…_ ”

“Magnificent…” Patton looks over at Roman when he says that and sees that he is a bit distracted. He smiles. 

“Any good?” he asks. He watches as Roman flips through the pages with a small smile before looking up at Patton.

“More than, of course!” Roman closes the book with his one hand and places his other hand on Patton’s shoulder. “You know, Padré, I am just so unbelievably proud of you. You have written such a fantastic book! I can’t wait to get my copy of it today! I am sure this little wonder is filled to the  _brim_ with many amazing, whimsical stories in here about the best-est man out there…”

“You’re in chapter seven.”

Roman flashes him a wide smile. “Thank youuuu!”

Patton laughs as he walks up to where Thomas is sitting, letting Roman bury himself in his search for his own chapter. Thomas looks up at him as he approaches. 

“You nervous?” Thomas asks. 

“A bit?” Patton shrugs, crossing his arms and taking a glance at the people holding copies of his book through a crack in the opening of the curtains. He looks back at Thomas. “You know, there’s more people than I thought there would be. There are even people outside the seating area; this isn’t even a ticketed event! These people are just…here!”

“It’s a good book, Pat,” Thomas says, letting Dante rest on his lap. “I don’t see why they wouldn’t be here!”

Patton smiles shyly, grabbing a seat next to Thomas, who offers him a bottle of water. Patton nervously fiddles with it in his lap.

“What if he doesn’t like it?”

Thomas looks up at him. “Who?”

“…Logan,” he finally says. Thomas expression softens.

“Pat, hey. Don’t say that.”

Patton musters up the courage to look at Thomas.

“I mean, I didn’t even tell him,” he says quietly. “I know he probably isn’t mad and it’s not like I spilled his deepest, darkest secrets, it’s just– I dunno, Thomas, I barely knew him.”

“You know, he didn’t tell you a lot either.”

“…That’s different.” 

Thomas sighs.

“You knew the best parts of him,” Thomas says. “You knew the kind of bad, not-so-fun parts of him too. I feel like you got a pretty good deal on the Logan package.”

Patton laughs half-heartedly; it makes him wonder how Thomas was feeling about this.

“If I had known, I…I would have been better, you know?” he admits. “I would have made most of the time with him. Maybe I would’ve taken him somewhere other than that lake. There’s more to life, ya know?”

A beat of silence.

“I saw him once,” Thomas finally says, “on one of his worse days, I guess. Thomas finally says. “I wondered how someone so cynical could have a new favourite life thing when their life was ending.”

He smiles at Patton. “Now I know why.”

* * *

_12/09/20; 4:30 pm._

“…and now, ladies and gentlemen: Patton Morgan!”

Roman pats his back as Patton takes a deep breath, the polite and quiet—yet heartful—laughs echoing in his ears as he pushed through the curtains and waved, the smile on his face growing.

He takes a seat at the table with his book,  _The Lake_ , stacked high to both his sides. He thanks the host and tries not to be intimidated by the flashes of phone cameras and the red light on a bigger camera, rested on a cameraman’s shoulders.

“Thank you for having me,” he says with a smile. “I’m surprised I was even able to host something here; this place is very hard to  _book_.”

A collective chuckle washes over the room, and Patton immediately feels at ease;  _See? They get it._

The afternoon passes without any minor hiccups; Patton answers pre-prepared questions from the host and tells a brief story of how it was written and why. He doesn’t cry this time like he did when he rehearsed it, which is probably a plus side as well.

Eventually, they have time for a few more questions from the audience and, of course, the first question is who is Logan  _really_.

Patton goes through his rehearsed response; he’s not at liberty to say much because that wouldn’t be fair, would it? The book shares a lot about their collective experience; who they were as individuals didn’t really matter much at the lake as opposed to  _who they were._

Another common question: is it an autobiography?

“Not really,” Patton answers. “It’s about my life, yes, but it’s…well–” He chuckles– “it isn’t even about my life, is it? I just wrote about a snippet of the life of someone I knew once. I told him I cared a lot about it, and I guess this is my way of finally proving that. I…”

He pauses.

“It’s just a story, really,” he says.

Someone asks where Logan is now.  
Patton says that’s hard to say.

Because he doesn’t say what happened in the book — he never really knew in the time they spent together, and as selfish as it was, he felt almost as if it’d be unfair to him that the readers got to know.

He writes that Logan left one day, like all people do.

Patton, after all, has never written about death;   
and death never belonged in their story.

“Do you miss him?” another asks; this is a question he hadn’t prepared for. 

Patton takes a pause, looking over at the book in front of him and he smiles.

“Everyday,” he answers.

A few more questions pass by before he ends the event by reading an excerpt from chapter one of his story and before he starts, he takes a brief look at the front cover.

He brought the artist to the lake, actually. His name is Virgil Casey. He learns that Virgil has been in town for two years now and he works at a flower shop by day and runs an art account on Tumblr by night; often painting landscapes and city skylines. Virgil dropped out of university and has a dog named Susie. Golden retriever, five years old. Patton isn’t allergic to dogs.

As much as Patton loves the lake,   
he wants to leave it as the scene for  _their_  story.

However, he is going out for drinks with Virgil this Wednesday at a park café. He often jokes that he plans on meeting Susie as soon as he possibly can.

_(And he doesn’t know it yet,  
but he will write a love story again.)_

For now, he remains fixated on the cotton-candy skies reflected off the lake on the cover of his book.

 _Logan probably likes it up there,_  he thinks.

And with that thought,  
Patton Morgan is finally at peace.

He opens up the book and begins to tell their now-finished story.

“September 12th, 2017; 7:30 pm:  _there’s someone sitting on the bench today…_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: you’re here! you’ve made it! i sincerely hope you enjoyed it; it’s one of the things i’m more proud of, really. it was definitely refreshing to write, even if it took a while. 
> 
> if you liked this, please feel free to kudos/comment this! it’d be mucho appreciated. 
> 
> also while you’re here, if you have the time, do you mind taking a quick survey? it’d help me out a bunch. no pressure though! you can find a link to the survey here: http://my-happy-little-bean.tumblr.com/post/175686828556/update (thank u in advance! :D)
> 
> anywhoo, that’s it for me! thank you for reading my dumb lil’ story. i love you a lot! seeya again soon <33


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